


Revelation

by rane_ne



Category: Vindictus
Genre: Character Study, Drabble, Gen, Preview for another story involving Ulchas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-27
Updated: 2014-11-27
Packaged: 2018-02-27 05:58:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2681696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rane_ne/pseuds/rane_ne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Perhaps they were waiting for him to die.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Revelation

**Author's Note:**

> Will definitely write more about Ulchas (and Vindictus in general) because he is my love. <3

The inhabitants surged forth like a tidal-wave, bloody, maroon-eyed, frothing. They gazed upon him beseechingly, with desperation and fear stretching taut their hooded smiles, unyielding.

They pleaded for him to set out and undo the damage they had done to themselves.

But beneath the guise of such open reverence, he sensed an insidious desire to break his seemingly impenetrable fortress of gold. The touches felt like fire--each lingering hand that threatened to undo his carefully erected armor, his protection against a world hell-bent on its self-destruction. 

_And his._

Could it be admiration that bled so freely from their expressions? Or could it be ... hateful jealousy? 

When they approached him, it was not with the demeanor of friendly acceptance but ... distant caution. They screamed demands loud enough to jar his aching limbs, ignored his tensed eyes and grim mouth; his footsteps, edging back as silently as Aquillore's bowed frame, sounded to him like the wheeze of a cornered animal. 

_Please help us... Please save us._

_You_ must. 

_Even if it kills you._

Their words spoke not of his courage, but of his _duty_. Duty in the cask of once-shining, golden skin, armor emblazoned with the blood of his enemies, teardrops of sweat falling from gray, lifeless eyes, the sharpest slash of his sword, broken and crushed time and time again. 

Here, in this town cast under the heavens as a curse upon any who dare call themselves 'hero,' Ulchas had never felt more alone.

He was not their hero, and they were not his people. He was no one's savior but _his_ own, destined to be forgotten in tomes of ancient history and folklore.

His deep-founded roots - of a place he'd once considered his sanctuary - had been abandoned decades ago. It was not 'home,' this dark forest filled with creatures whose eyes raged wilder than those they called monsters, and it was certainly not an 'adventure,' each harrowing trip through hell-fire potent enough to shred him of his sanity, rip asunder every particle of existence within his soul. 

It was duty--obligation-- _necessity_ \--that had spurred him on through his panic, endless fear and trepidation. 

So when they turned to him with blood-lust marring their deceptive mask of supposed humanity, he only deigned a smile. Their eyes held no warmth; each collective body that pulled closer to him teemed with invisible bombs and spears meant to pierce, pierce...

Perhaps they were waiting for him to die--eventually, _painfully_ , as all past heroes and legends had done. 

Perhaps that was their plan all along.


End file.
